A Different Sort of Harry
by The Last True Hero
Summary: A different telling of the tales of Harry Potter.  dead till further notice


_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Harry Potter series, or any other owned item referenced in this story. They belong to…whoever they belong to._

_**A/N:** This is the 1st instalment of "A Different Sort of Harry" and follows the events of the 1st book more or less, with Harry becoming smart ( Things really change in Year 2...which raises the question of why I don't just start there but never mind). Read and Enjoy!_

_And who's seen HBP? Its awesome!_

_Also, Ignore any and all anachronisms, please_

_Also, this is set after the zoo incident _

* * *

_**A Different Sort of Harry**_

_**Chapter I**_

**_A New World Awaits…_**

_--Every story must have a beginning--_

_--Proverb--_

* * *

~*~*~*~

_Have you ever dreamed you were special?_

_~*~*~*~_

"Get up, you useless boy, your punishments over!"

_Somehow I'm not so sure about that._

"Now! Duddikins wants his breakfast!"

_Of course he does…_

With a sigh I sit up and hiss when I smack my head off the underside of the staircase.

"What was that?!"

I sigh again, and with practiced ease shrug off the pain- it's nothing compared to what I've been through before- and reply to my _lovely_ Aunt Petunia.

"Nothing"

"It had better be, now get dressed!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia"

I fumble around for my broken-and-repaired-a-dozen-times glasses, then set about getting dressed in clothes that had once been Dudley's ( or Duddikins if you're Aunt Petunia).

That done, I make my way out of my "bedroom" ( it's actually the cupboard under the stairs) and my way to the kitchen to make Dudley his stupid breakfast.

~*~*~*~

_That you were meant for something…more?_

_~*~*~*~_

Walking in, I see the whole happy family sitting there: bony-faced Aunt Petunia, whale-like Dudley, and Uncle Vernon, an overweight, over-aggressive idiot who shouldn't be allowed anywhere _near_ a child, let alone raising one. 'Course, I don't say that to his face, I'm still in pain from the last time I angered him…

Wordlessly I move to the fridge and start pulling out packets of bacon, sausages, tomatoes, and eggs. I'm a dab hand at cooking, y'see. Been doing it since I was three. The first time I was made to do it I burnt my hand, but when I went to Aunt Petunia, she grabbed my hand and actually _pressed_ it into the grill.

I got cooking down pretty quickly after that.

The sizzling of the bacon makes me hungry, and I briefly consider slipping an extra slice, before deciding it's too risky. Last time I got caught, I got _no_ food at all, so I'm better off waiting then sneaking something out the fridge later.

Beginning to see a pattern here?

No? okayyyyyyy.

I'm just placing the plates of food in front of the Dursleys when I hear the clatter of the mailbox.

"Dudley, get the mail"

"But I don't wanna!"

"Harry, get the mail."

I scowl, but don't complain, and quickly leave. I don't want to give Dudley a chance to hit me with his stupid Smeltings stick. Why he insists on parading in his uniform I'll never understand. At least I'm going to Stonewell High, rather than Smeltings with my cousin. Maybe I actually be able to make friends there…

I lazily pick up the letters and make my way back to the kitchen, examining the mail with disinterest.

Bill…Bill…Postcard from Aunt Marge…Why am I even bothering , I never get mail, and despite my considerable time spent at the library I don't have a membership card, so I don't even notices for late returns.

Hello… what do we have here, I wonder?

Blinking in surprise, I examine the letter- which, curiously is made from parchment rather than paper-and read the address in green ink.

_Mr H.J Potter_

_No. 4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging, Surrey_

_The Cupboard Under The Stairs_

Weirdly, there's no date, no stamp, no return address. I turn it over and find a wax seal made up of a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle surrounding an ornate "H".

_Well.. _I mused._ It's not from Child Services, anyways. _

"What's taking so long boy?!" Uncle Vernon yelled.

I blink, before remembering why I was here, and hastily return to the kitchen and hand my uncle his mail, before beginning to open my own letter.

Suddenly, I heard my Aunt gasp, and I can do little more yelp as my very first letter was snatched out of my hands.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Go to your cupboard!"

"But-!"

"NOW!"

My survival instinct kicked in and I made a hasty retreat to the hall, angry at myself for losing that letter- of_ course_ they would've taken it off me. Why hadn't I hid it, or better yet, opened it in the hall?

And now it was gone.

I sigh and lean against the wall, before simply sliding down it.

Ten or so minutes later, Uncle Vernon emerged, looking visibly shaken. I'm already on my feet.

"Where's my letter?" I demand before he can say anything. He glared, before smirking; "I burned it"

"But it was _mine-"_

Vernon glares again, before speaking in a surprisingly soft voice: "Listen, Harry" Okay, something's wrong, he _never_ calls me Harry, heck, I thought my name was "Freak" until I started Primary School;

"I've been thinking" _That's a first.. "_You're getting a bit big for your cupboard, aren't you?"

_No, not in the slightest…idiot._

"So…why don't we move you into Dudley's other bedroom?"

I stare at him in disbelief. Dudley's second bedroom? There's gotta be a catch. Then it hits me: "_The Cupboard Under The Stairs". _They're giving me it 'cause they think someone knows they abuse me. Which , frankly raises a slew of other questions, but I'll let them slide for now.

"Okay, Uncle Vernon"

It only takes a single trip to move my meagre belongings into the smallest bedroom, and ten minutes to put everything away. It's _waayyy _better than the cupboard, I have a bed-_ a real bed!_-, a desk, and a wardrobe.

But, in all honesty, I'd rather have that letter.

~*~*~*~

_I did._

~*~*~*~

But that was not the end, however. The next day, another letter came, as if they somehow _knew_ the first one had not been read by me. Even stranger, this one was addressed to the smallest bedroom. Unfortunately, Dudley got to it first, and once again I went without knowing what that letter was.

And so it went on, each day more letters came, with Vernon becoming more and more desperate to keep them out. The "war of the letters" as I had dubbed it, became more and more frantic as the days more on. Vernon did all he could blocking the door, the letterbox, and the windows, effectively barricading us inside the house.

But whoever was sending the letters would not be daunted: The letters got smuggled in inside newspapers, up the toilet, and many more amusing hiding places.

Then it came. The D-Day of the letter war.

It was Sunday, and Vernon was grinning as I offered biscuits to the family.

He was happy because, on a Sunday, there is no mail, a well needed reprieve from the letters onslaught.

Obviously, the other people never got that particular memo.

It went unnoticed at first, then the floor began to shake, almost like an earthquake. The fireplace, blocked up by Vernon earlier in the week _exploded_ in a fire of letters.

I gotta say, it's very funny to hear the Dursley's scream.

Letters, letters, everywhere! The house is full of them! They're coming out the fireplace, the letterbox, everywhere!

Hurriedly, I try to snatch one out the air, but I'm stopped by Vernon who _tackles me to the ground!_

"OUT, OUT,GET WHAT YOU CAN IN TEN MINUTES THEN OUT!"

~*~*~*~

_And y'know what?_

~*~*~*~

Uncle Vernon, took us on a wild goose chase across England, trying valiantly to escape those Owls that have supposedly been delivering the mystery letters.

Of course, he failed. Not for lack of trying though.

Now, we are currently residing in a shack in the middle of the sea, surrounded by formidable waves, and thundering storm clouds.

Also, it's 23:55 on the 30th of July. Something significant to none but me.

My birthday's in five minutes.

'Course, the Dursley's never celebrate _my_ birthday. No cake, and the only present I ever got was a hanger with a pair of Uncle Vernon's lurid yellow socks. And the only cake is the one I'm drawing into the dirt-covered floor. Eleven "candles", one for each year.

23:56, according to Dudley's shiny watch._ Four minutes._

I sigh and rest my eyes, wondering if those letters could reach us here, in this cold and drafty shack. Somehow I doubt it. _Three minutes._

What _were_ to letters anyways? It looks like it's from a school, or something. Maybe it's a scholarship or something? _Two minutes._

Doesn't matter, seeing as Vernon'll never let me get my hands on one._ One minute._

I wish, just once, that something would go right for me. _Ten._

That I have someone who'll take me from here. _Nine._

That I had a friend. _Eight_.

Someone who cared._ Seven._

That I was loved. _Six_

That I was meant for something more. _Five._

That there was more to the world than meets the eye. _Four_.

That I wouldn't have to live in fear of my Uncle. _Three_.

That I could be who I wanted to be. _Two._

That I was special. _One._

With a sigh, I blow out my "candles". _Zero._

BOOM!

~*~*~*~

_It came true._

_~*~*~*~_

"Where's the cannon!" Dudley yelled stupidly.

BOOM!

I'm on my feet and backing up towards the wall. My Aunt and Uncle come down, the latter clutching an air rifle in his podgy hands._ So that's what that was…_

With the third BOOM! The door came crashing off, revealing a terrifying giant of a man against a backdrop of clouds and lightning.

The giant came in, and spoke.

"Sorry, 'bout tha' "

Part of wants to burst out laughing but I hold it in and watch as he picks up the doors and puts it back in place.

The man turns, revealing a surprisingly friendly face, with warm eyes despite the beetle-black colour, surrounded by a tangled mane of black hair and a beard.

He walks up to Dudley and speaks in a jovial voice, as if greeting an old friend.

" 'Ello, Harry, I mus' say you're a bit bigger than I thought you'd be, particularly roun' the middle!"

Dudley, obviously terrified out of his mind, somehow managed to reply: "I'm-I'm not Harry.."

"I am"

The man turns to me and speaks in that friendly voice of his: "Oops, well then, happy birthday Harry!" before pulling out a box from his massive coat. Cautiously I take it, before opening it to reveal a chocolate cake with HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY in bright green icing, despite the absurdity of the situation, I thank him for my very first Birthday cake;

"Yeh look so much like your dad, 'cept for the eyes, thier your mum's.I'm Hagrid, by the way, keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts"

"I demand you leave at once!" both Hagrid and I blink, before turning around to face the now remembered Uncle Vernon, with his gun raised at Hagrid; "You are breaking and entering!"

Hagrid frowns, before simply reaching over and plucking the gun out of his hands and actually bends it into a bow, like something from one of Dudley's cartoons._ Wicked!_

"Now…where was I?" Hagrid said; "You're Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts" I offer with a grin.

"Oh, yeah, now, you know bout Hogwarts right?"

"No"

"STOP, I FORBID YOU!"

Hagrid simply ignored Vernon, and asked "Wait, so you don't know nothing?"

That's a bit far, I mean, I spend most of my time in the local library reading, and I would've been top of my class if Uncle Vernon hadn't hit me for doing better than Dudley.

Hagrid sighed, before dumping himself on the couch, which bent under the strain. Then he leaned into the dying embers of the fire, and when he drew back, a small bundle of flames were twinkling merrily.

Hagrid turned towards me again, and spoke four simple words that spun my world upside down.

"Yer a wizard, Harry"

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_**A/N: **__and that's chap 1 done. R&R, and constructive criticism please. Cheers._


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